Repression of Human Longing

Heart pumping- warm, rich blood flows through my body. All my veins, all my muscles – aching, straining to move. My brain is frozen- encased in a layer of the most impermeable ice. All my energy is focused on the simplest of functions. Even so, I cannot breathe.  It’s as if  you reach into me -squeezing my lungs – to snatch the air within. Chest heaving, pulsating – my ribs are fit to burst. My whole body  rebels against me, yet only I bear witness.

I cannot even begin to fathom from where these thoughts spring, but somehow  these desires have quietly, yet fervently, burned into my soul all this time. Unstoked, they merely festered- like an old wound that cannot quite heal up. Oh, the many scenarios I have planned out in my head, the waking dreams that dance around the outskirts of my mind – I cannot express the sheer might of these images.  Ever the skeptic, I find myself repulsed at this weakness – this sickening, debilitating longing that unwillingly inhabits my thoughts.

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Psshh

Years of sexual and emotional repression has finally taken its toll, I suppose. Never willing to admit I had feelings or desires, I at first grew quite dissatisfied with my changing, growing body.  Now that I finally recognize myself for the power I hold, I find myself unable to express it in any fashion. Despite the wide range and scope of emotions and sensations that we humans are capable of experiencing, it feels like they have more control over us than we think.

Someone is right outside of our consciousness, just waiting to make us feel the most inconvenient things.  We so often end up getting attached to someone a bit out of our reach. This supposed “wrong kind of love” is so prevalent in our thinking. Frequently we look up to those that we have little in common with or fall for people we cannot be with.  Though, whether that is ‘because of’ or ‘in spite of’ I cannot say. Either way, it is one of the most unpredictable elements of the human experience.

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Oh?

Somehow we usually seem to know what or whom we won’t like, but rarely what we will like.  We also have this habit of dichotimizing our feelings; they’re either “good” or “bad”- “right” or “wrong”.  Probably our greatest gift yet we so often contain or minimalize it, as if we are unworthy of reciprocation or above appearing vulnerable to those we care for.  I hate to think that the guise of normality and control is more vital to us than the joy of being true to ourselves, but such is often the case.  Though if we can’t be open about our natures with others, at least let us accept it within ourselves – be cognitive or our feelings and allow ourselves to bask in them. I guess I could say that this is a call to arms to all my similarly repressed kin.

Cease this continually numbing of the spirit, the absolute neglect of your voice. There are people out there who want to hear the things you have to say, and if you stay silent you will never obtain that connection. I’d like to think that the benefits far out weigh the risks in this instance.  But, think of all the awkward social interactions, faux pas, and disjointed eye contact, and possibility of rejection that you are lacking in your life!  Why, you could even grow as a person! No, no- that can’t be good for you; safety and absolute certainty is the way to go.

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Or this…

Up next for me: I’m working on a book review/critique of A Curable Romantic by Joseph Skibell and compiling a list of songs that have been quite relevant too me recently and interpreting some of the lyrics.  A Curable Romantic is a decent book, but extremely frustrating!  The protagonist is such an absolute goof!  He seems to be socially inept, obviously sexually ignorant, and naive to the point of rage at times. Ugh! As for the songs, I thought it may do well for me to add in some more popular culture and modern expression into my writing. I don’t know, we’ll see how it goes.  Also, I have decided to go back and revise and touch up my previous posts.  I’ve noticed a few redundencies, style errrors, and odd phrasing  within them after reading them out to my therapist. Generally, I like them(more than I thought I would), but I’d like them to flow much more smoothly. At the same time, my Rickman page is being pushed to the back of my mind (it’s just not tangible and, thus, less important to me at the moment) but he is still on my to-do list.   Heh…

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Not Alan Rickman, but just as acceptable.

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